Blackened Hell, Screaming Silence
by Sakura In Flames
Summary: Matt is confused and alone as he struggles to come to terms with his past. Little does he know that the town of Silent Hill has it's own plans for him. Chapter 2 up People... Finally
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill.

Blackened Hell, Screaming Silence 

'Only with silence can there be sound.'

'Only through life can one embrace deaths open arms.'

'Only through the sins of the damned will the gates to hell open.'

Only through our blindness can we truly see the world.'

Cold, dark, desolation. The room was rank with it, the only source of light being a lone candle upon the wooden table that lay in the farthest corner from the bed. The pale grey walls held a vast amount of dust, saturation and wear to them as though they had been neglected for many years, each one screaming for repair. The darkness that cowered away from the only light violently threw itself against the paper splashing and bleeding into the furthest reaches where it could not be touched or harmed.

The pale glow of the flame vaguely captured the silhouette of a man, the rays immersing him enough to depict a face that held all the features of fatigue and wear, even though it was evident, despite the minimum light that he was only in his late thirties. His hair, a messy dark blonde, descended unnaturally down to the beginning of his neck, which held a sliver locket around it in the shape of a pair of wings and his face was fairly scarred as though he had seen a fair amount of fighting and pain in his life.

Getting up he reached inside the pocket of his jeans and pulled out an aging wallet with the name 'Matt Harrows' engraved crudely upon it. Matt took out a small note and quickly skim-read it before re-pocketing it again and sighing, as though trying to dispel the growing anxiety that had been building inside of him ever since he had entered the town that night.

As he checked his wristwatch, with an air of absent mindedness, the hands upon the wearing face read 3:15 am. It was only five hours ago that he had took solace in the hotel room that he was now currently occupying, and although he was tired, the lack of life within the place did not allow him the piece of mind in order to recuperate from his journey. Deciding he would get his rest somewhere else within the hotel he walked towards the door and turned the handle with quite a bit of force as it opened.

Matt slowly descended the staircase, each footfall producing small dull thuds that echoed and resonated throughout the hotel, the infinite silence that had previously been undisturbed flickering in and out with each new step taken.

As he reached nearer the bottom, he took a flashlight from the pocket at his belt and trained the beam of light upon the wooden flooring before landing upon level ground and walking up to the reception desk immediately in front of him. The note he had left there hours before had not moved or been repositioned in the slightest, each emboldened letter shimmering in and out of the torchlight. It was immediately evident that no one had come into contact with the letter which also, therefore, meant that no one had entered that room. Matt took a few tentative steps behind the desk and began to rummage around in the draws for anything of value or use. Finally his hand came into contact with a box of matches and three long candles.

Suddenly, as if to break him out of a stupor that was begging to set upon his face, (whether from thought or fatigue he did not know, nor did he care) a small tapping noise began to echo from the door to his far right. It seemed faint but Matt could tell it was there. He began to walk a little more briskly, but cautiously towards the door, his flashlight gripped tightly in his hand and with the other he reached for the door handle. The pain that shot through his head burned as every known sense within him threatened to shut down and he broke contact with the door as though it were burning, the severity of the tapping behind it violently growing, as it escalated into banging and scratching as though something were trying frantically to get to the other side, where he stood, the need for freedom overwhelming it, plaguing it.

'Get the hell outta my head god damnit.'

_Why?_

'It burns!'

_It always burns, its been burning for an eternity._

'What are you talking about, who are you?'

_Open the door and see for yourself, see our living hell._

'GET OUT OF MY HEAD'

_Open the door!_

Matt frantically groped for the handle once more and pulled as the door swung open.

Authors note: Thanks for reading, this is the first fic I've ever written, so constructive criticism is welcome but no flames please.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello again, here is chapter 2. Sorry it took a while to write but I've had quite a lot of things to sort out on top of college, a job, and the holidays lol. Thanks once again to all the people that reviewed, good or not so good, all comments were much appreciated. Just to clarify one point, I am actually a boy, for all those who thought I was a girl cos of the name Sakura in Flames. That name is the name of my band so I thought I'd use it for my Fanfiction name. Thanks again to all, now onto the next chapter, which is definitely longer than the last.

Enjoy

Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill or anything associated with it.

**Chapter 2**

Nothing but the darkened lounge stared back at Matt, to his utter surprise. There was no sign of a struggle, nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. The pounding in his head had disappeared almost instantly leaving only silence once more, although this time the silence held with it not only an increasing uneasiness but also a great many questions. Questions that Matt wanted answering but, he knew in his head that getting answers would not make his position any easier. The noise, the pain and the voice, each growing question began to spin uncontrollably in his mind. He could have sworn that someone had reached into his mind, or maybe it was only his subconscious creating a device telling him to take some needed rest, but wherever the voice had surfaced from, it was unlike anything before. The cold and hatred and need for freedom that had surrounded that voice sent a shiver up Matt's spine as he remembered what had happened only minutes ago.

Deciding he would brood upon the problem in the morning he took the candles he had acquired earlier from out of his pocket and searched the lounge once over to make sure that there really was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Matt you silly fool, stop letting your mind overrule reality." He shook his head and lit all the candles before placing them in there respective holders that were scattered around the room. The light instantly beginning to soothe him, Matt lay down on the longest sofa in the room and glanced at his surroundings once more before he shut his eyes to the world.

Every night the same dreams. Every night those unforgiving memories came again and again as though trying to sap the happiness from him. Friends and relatives lying dead among the bodies of strangers, each face staring blankly to the sky with misty, blackened eyes. Shells and mortar fire whistled in the air before impacting violently upon the ground, their deadly crescendo ending in a symphony of pain. Matt stood deathly still in a sea of blood, his clothes badly damaged and burned in several places. In one hand he carried his firearm, his best friend at his time of need, and in the other a pole which sported his company's flag. They were only dreams, memories of war and bloodshed but the realism brought about with each swimming image still haunted Matt and toyed with him while he slept, while his mind was at it's weakest. He could still picture the men lying at his feet, each bullet wound counting down the seconds to their inevitable death, each and every one that had pierced their skin fired from his gun. Matt had seen his fair share of hell in his life, the horror of it was enough to take only once until one's mind ceased to be one's own. However, Matt was faced with the impossible task of reliving these moments again and again and how he wished the dreams would cease and bring him peace of mind once again.

The dreams ended…

Matt was brought violently out of his sleep by a crash. Still trying to subdue the images playing from inside his subconscious his immediate thought was of a fresh round of mortar shells until his eyes grew accustomed to the features of the hotel lounge, the last of the candlelight fading with each passing moment. He sighed long and hard before seating himself once again upon the chair. Contemplating where the noise had arisen from he began to once again search his immediate surroundings. Could it be that there was someone else in this town after all and could he finally get some answers as to why everywhere was so… Dead.

'Welcome to the peaceful little town of Silent Hill, a place bustling with atmosphere and friendly people'. Those were the words printed upon the brochure. Matt seriously thought twice about that now. The only atmosphere that this town had to offer was of the silent nature, which, Matt thought, was fitting as it certainly seemed to live up to its name, and the only person (if it was a person) that seemed to be left in the town happened to have the kind decency to wake him in a loud manner. It was evident that the source of the noise was not to be found within this area of the hotel and Matt once again turned on his flashlight with the intent of searching the other rooms.

A sudden chill was sent all through Matt's body as every molecule within the air grew cold at an alarming rate taking with it the last of the dying light. Suddenly Matt froze, not from the unnatural cold but from a wailing sound from all around him, very much like the familiar scream of an air raid siren the noise growing and dying, growing and dying, each sound pulsating against his eardrums and mimicking (with almost perfect accuracy) the beating of his heart as it grew faster and faster.

'_Not again, does that mean my dreams have started to become reality, am I being punished by my own body? How could I help the actions I took? I was a soldier and is it not a soldier's job to obey the orders they are given, to kill or be killed?'_

Matt finally shook off all thoughts and visions of his past knowing that the idea of dreams and reality becoming one and the same was ludicrous and decided that the siren sound could be a warning of some kind, possibly to allow people to take shelter from severe weather conditions. That would explain the lack of populace within the immediate area. The sound also suggested to Matt that if someone were controlling the noise then there were more than likely others he could get some answers from, or at least communicate with.

Setting off in the direction of the noise he walked across the lounge toward the door he had previously entered before. But by the time he had taken three steps forward everything began to get darker. It was impossible seeing as the room was already shrouded by the darkness of the night, but even that seemed to be swallowed up. There was something definitely something not right about this. Dark was not a word to describe it, even pitch black seemed mildly entertaining and definitely the wrong choice of word to use. It was engulfing, it was deathly black and all about Matt felt a strong sense of something evil, something that not even the most evil criminal mind could comprehend.

Matt gripped the hilt of his flashlight tightly, the metal becoming warmer from the amount of perspiration that was surfacing from his palm. This was all too unreal even for someone who had an interest in supernatural occurrences. Thinking back to his previous experience a few hours ago when he had first placed his hand upon this door, Matt recalled the faceless voice that had spoken to him in the deepest recesses of his mind. Was this the hell it had spoken of, could this once peaceful little town now be the gate to the lair in which demons wept tears of fire in their desperate attempt to enter the world and brutally ravage it in an inferno of death? Matt jumped slightly after noticing his flashlight contact on the door and laughed at how nervous he must look and how foolish he had become.

Suddenly the laughing stopped. In a matter of seconds the wood upon the door began to peel away as thought it were only paper and as if some invisible beast were ripping at it in frenzy. Even though this was enough to disturb anybody on its own, the thing that chilled Matt the most was that instead of crumbling to the floor, the 'wood' was proceeding upwards and spreading outwards around the room and where it once stood lay a metal gate, rusted with what looked like blood stains. In fact nearly everything was beginning to change into an older more rusted variation of its former self.

Whether from fear or just sheer force of will, Matt stood rooted to the spot surveying everything in his sight. His gaze settled upon what used to be the fireplace, but which was now nothing more than a hole that seemed to go down under the lounge. Taking a few tentative steps towards the hole, and almost immediately regretting it, Matt pointed the beam of his light downwards. What he saw next almost made him retch in repulsion. Halfway down the hole lay a deformed body, its neck held back by the countless chains that bound it to the walls of the tunnel. It looked up at him with lifeless eyes, white, with no feeling in them, like a bitter frost on an unforgiving morning, frozen over by years of pain and sorrow. The blood that had surfaced around the figure's arms, legs and neck from the strain put on its skin by the chains dripped down to the darkness below as if to feed the ever-growing thirst and hunger for despair, fear and death that could evidently be felt in the blackness.

As those eyes came into contact with Matt's, the figure opened its mouth limply and out of proportion as though every bone in this creature's mouth had been broken several times over. It emitted a piercing scream that pulsated around the room which broke the metal table (that had once been a nice antique wooden one) into two pieces and breaking off at least two of the legs. Luckily Matt snapped out of his horrified stupor just in time to cover his eardrums against the vocal attack. He stumbled backward and getting to his feet began to run to the nearest exit but was stopped from going any further when a rotten hand grabbed his leg from behind and pulled him to the floor hard, the taste of blood growing in his mouth. He turned back to see the figure clambering its way out of the hole, its one free arm not entirely bound by chains outstretched, the rotted hand gripped tightly around his leg. As it struggled against its metal captives the figure began to open its mouth once more. Reaching for one of the metal legs that had snapped from the table, Matt turned and thrust it into the creature's mouth replacing the sound of a scream with the gurgle of blood.

Pulling the pole out he swung at the arm that clamped around his leg, the impact successfully dislodging his leg from the painful grip. Getting up Matt kicked the thing that was now writhing on the floor in pain, breaking its neck and sending it back down the hole.

Matt dropped the pole in his hands and dropped to his knees retching and spitting violently before taking a deep breath and steadying himself.

"What the hell is wrong with this town?"

A/N: Well that's chapter 2 sorted, now onwards to chapter 3. I need at least 10 reviews people, pretty please . Thanks for reading


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